Red thorn
by JupiterGodess
Summary: Life had seemed up for Murtagh. But he should have known better than to get his hope up. And so, what should have been a joyous occasion turns into the worst scenario for him. (My interpretation of how Thorn hatching for him happened.)


**Red thorn**

Murtagh sat in the gloom of his cell, arms wrapped around his knees and staring dully at the red, stone-like egg. If not for his situation, he might have actually found it beautiful; the red sheen had something otherworldly, mysterious about it.

But his situation was the worst possible.

The dark-haired adolescent had to supress a moan when one of his many wounds gave an especially painful throb.

_Damn you, Galbatorix_.

More than ever before, he asked himself a certain question. What in the name of any gods, which there may be, had he done wrong to deserve such punishment in life? Was it retribution for something he had done in an earlier life, if there was any such thing? Not only had he suffered cruelty under his own father and been abandoned by his mother. He had also been almost tricked by King Galbatorix, and had lost his only friend, his mentor in swordplay, Tornac.

_And just when I had tasted freedom…_

After escaping Uru'baen, he had traveled alone, following the tracks of a rumour about another Dragon Rider in Alagäesia. After meeting Eragon, a fragile friendship had formed between them. And after his fierce battle alongside the Varden in Farthen Dur, to protect the dwarven city Tronjheim from an army of Urgals, even they had begun to respect him. So much so that Ajihad had taken him on an excursion into the tunnels to drive away any lingering Urgals.

Murtagh had felt… extatic, even. His life seemed to look actually pretty promising, for a change. He had the faint hope to make actual friends, to begin a life in which he could decide for himself. A life in which nobody judged him, in which he wouldn't have to endure the same cruelties as under his father and Galbatorix.

And then the twins happened.

Murtagh hadn't even the strenght left to bare his teeth as he remembered the day they attacked Ajihads party from behind when they returned from cleaning out the tunnels. But the rage still burned inside him like a flame. He recalled seeing Saphira taking off towards them, Eragon on her back, before the twins cast spells to immobalise him and kidnap him. But something told him they hadn't made it in time. Ajihad was more than likely dead. The leader of the Varden and after Eragon and Nasuada the first of the rebels to accept him.

_Those rotten bastards. I hope they will get their payback._

But who was he fooling. Life had never been fair, especially not to him. It had let him taste what could have been, only for him to end up back in Uru'baen, in one of Galbatorix's dungeons.

He shuddered when he remembered what Galbatorix had done to him. The King had visibly enjoyed tormenting Murtagh. And not only physically, which had been bad enough; the dark-haired adolescent still had the stench of burning flesh in his nose. Oh no. Galbatorix had much more in store. Not for nothing had he managed to exterminate the entire order of Dragon Riders with only thirteen fellow Riders. As deadly as Galbatorix was with his sword, his specialty lay elsewhere.

The mind.

The mad king had tormented Murtagh mentally with gusto. Had let him relive that day Murtagh's back had been cut open by his father's sword, which he had thrown at his own son in a drunken rage. Had let him relive Tornac's death. After that, the mental torment had continued in creative ways only Galbatorix could have come up with.

At this point, Murtagh had no idea how he had survived the ordeal. In a sort of morbid way, he took pride in that fact. Whatever Galbatorix had done to him, however bad the torment had become, he had refused to cooperate.

_I'll never bend to him. Never._

His attention returned to the shimmering red dragon egg. It was to be expected, really, that Galbatorix would try this. Murtagh was the son of a Dragon Rider, after all. And since almost a hundred years, Galbatorix had tried unsuccessfully to make the last three eggs, which were all in his possession, hatch and add new Riders to his ranks. Well, one had hatched, but only after being stolen from the vault it had been in. An image of Saphira with her shimmering blue scales appeared in front of Murtagh's eyes. He had seen the close bond the dragon lady shared with Eragon and almost wished he could have the same.

Almost.

Were he free, it would be an entirely different matter. But in Galbatorix's clutches, a dragon hatching would mean enslavement for both him and his Rider. In this case, Murtagh himself. So far, the egg had stayed blissfully calm. And Murtagh wanted for it to remain this way.

How long he had contemplated the egg broodingly, he couldn't tell. But suddenly, something tore him out of his thoughts. The egg… had it just moved? No. Must be a trick of the gloomy light. Murtagh stared at the egg closely. There it was again, a light rocking to and thro.

"No…", the dark-haired youth whispered as a wave of dread washed over him. "It can't be…"

The rocking got wilder and wilder. Now, even a squeaking sound could be heard, and scratching from inside the egg.

"Nononono!", Murtagh pleaded with the dragon. "Don't hatch! You have no idea what you're getting into! Please, don't hatch!"

The dragon didn't listen. Cracks appeared in the egg's shell, and a short time later, the little being had freed itself. Amidst pieces of red egg shell, it sat and cleaned itself with its tongue, like a cat. It had even the size of a cat and was covered in scales that were the same red as the egg had been. The weak light of the single torch in the cell danced upon them and made them shimmer. It was a beautiful creature, but Murtagh barely noticed that.

Now that the dragon had hatched, all was lost.

After finishing licking a paw, it looked over at Murtagh with big, red eyes. There was an innocence and curiosity inside them that broke Murtagh's heart. Then the small being hopped over to him.

"No!", Murtagh almost shrieked and crawled back against the wall. "Don't come over here!"

As long as he didn't touch the dragon and officially become his rider, there was still hope. But then it was too late. The dragon reached him and purring, pressed its head against Murtagh's left hand, which he had outstretched to keep it away.

Energy surged through the young man, so cold that it burned. It left him exhausted, and he sank against the wall.

Who had he wanted to fool. He knew the stories. A dragon meant for a Rider only hatched when the right person stood in front of the egg. Even if he hadn't touched the young being, it had been too late the moment it had hatched.

When he finally recuperated, he lifted his left hand. It still prickled and stung. Sure enough, there was the silvery shimmering Gedwëy Ignasia. The mark of a Dragon Rider.

Murtagh looked down at the little creature. It had laid a clawed paw onto his leg and had its big, innocent eyes fixed on him. Then it gave a purring sound, as if it had sympathy with him.

His throat suddenly seemed unbearably tight.

He took the dragon into his arms and hugged it tightly. An unbidden tear ran down his cheek.

"You fool", he whispered, struggling not to sob. "You damn fool. Why couldn't you have stayed in your egg."

The dragon only gave a questioning squeaking sound.

Murtagh had no illusions whatsoever what was going to happen. He had spent enough time at Galbatorix's court. He knew how the mad king was. The small dragon was only one leverage he had over Murtagh. Now that it had hatched for him, the young man would do anything to protect it. But Galbatorix was also crafty and powerful. There were countless other ways he could force his will upon the two of them.

"Whatever he's going to do", the new Rider promised his dragon, "I'll protect you from Galbatorix. I am not going to let him harm you."

It was the only thing he could do. No matter what, he was going to ensure the well-being of his dragon.

Through the haze of his cloudy thoughts, Murtagh realised that he had yet to name the little being. He grimaced. Having never even dreamed of one day becoming a Rider, he had never pondered how he would name his dragon. He went through some names he had heard his father or Galbatorix say, but none fit the red dragon. A few more names he had read in books, but they weren't to his liking either.

As he sat and thought and stroked the dragon, an ice cold resolution began to fill him. And the more he pondered it, the more he also saw the good part of having become a Rider. Oh, sure, he was going to be under Galbatorix's yoke. However, he would also gain the power that nothing and nobody was going to hurt him ever again. From now on, he would not be a playball of fate anymore. From now on, he was going to create his own fate. And whoever was getting in his way was going to perish.

"Getting in my way…"

It was then that it struck him. He lifted his dragon up and stared it into the ruby eyes.

"I call you Thorn", he solemnly declared. "For you shall be a glowing red thorn in the side of our enemies. From today on, it's just you and me."

The dragon purred in response. He seemed very content.


End file.
